


Durin's Day Dancing

by JessariOfErebor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bagginshield-Centric, Betting, Cultural Differences, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, double meanings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 15:08:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessariOfErebor/pseuds/JessariOfErebor
Summary: Dancing, courting traditions, and more. Set two years after Erebor is retaken.Alternative Title: New Years Ball.





	

**Author's Note:**

> When it says "Thorin's eyes widened," THIS is the song that starts playing: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3SZ0p05bAlI Drumming Song by Florence and the Machine.

“You are aware of our courting traditions, at dancing balls like this.” It was spoken like a statement, but Bilbo correctly understood it as a question.

“Yes, I am.” Bilbo spun around, Thorin’s arm going up for the move. “Balin educated me well, I’ll have you know,” Bilbo added dryly as he came to a halt, back in base position as they began moving to the dance together. Now that they were face to face again, Bilbo’s amusement and Thorin’s gravity were showing in equal measure.

Three dances.

They had shared three dances by now, and back to back ones at that.

Bilbo could  _ feel _ the dwarrowdams seething.

It felt good.

“I am glad to hear you put so much stock in learning my culture.”

Anyone who didn’t know Thorin would have missed the nuance, but knowing the dwarf as long as Bilbo had, he might as well have shouted it.

Bilbo hummed, nodding as they stepped to the beat of the music. “ _ Your _ culture is quite endearing. It is similar to being in the Shire, with all the social rules and necessary niceties…but they are written down here, which is surprisingly helpful.”

Thorin nodded and dipped him without warning as the final note came to a close. Bilbo’s eyes were wide, dark in the way firelight and caverns brought out in him. The hobbit’s senses were on high alert, focusing momentarily on the raven braid that fell forward onto his cheek, then past to the icy blue that awaited him. Thorin’s eyes were locked on his, smoky with meaning, meaning Bilbo had only seen glimpses of in the past. As Thorin drew him back up, the hobbit muttered, “Oh,” in understanding;  _ it’s not just me,  _ he thought.

The next song started but Thorin gave it no attention, just stood there, staring at Bilbo. The hobbit smiled unsurely, unable to hold that intense blue gaze when there were  _ others, right there, thank you Thorin. Dancing is one thing, but this? _

After a minute of evaluation, Thorin came to a decision. He stepped forward, bringing their bodies within inches of each other; Bilbo had to crane his neck to see Thorin, who had his own dipped to his chest.

Then Thorin took his hand, and brought it to his lips; they were so close, they could see each other’s pupils dilate with the gesture. The combination of his warm lips and burning eyes would have been overwhelming to some, but to Bilbo they were excitement and the sense of  _ home. _ Oh, how far he had come from that sensible hobbit who cared about his mother’s dishes and doilies.

“Do you wish to continue?” Thorin asked, voice rough and low, yet easy for Bilbo to hear above the music.

“Yes, but I could do with a drink first.”

Thorin nodded his acquiesce and took his burglar’s arm as they moved towards the refreshment table. There were many different types of ales and wines set up in barrels with spouts along the long table. A varying assortment of cheeses, breads, and other snacks were also available, but Bilbo paid them no mind. Instead he allowed his eyes to take in the room around them as he nursed from a cup Thorin handed him.

Firelight lit up the gallery of kings for the first time in nearly a hundred years. The golden floor beneath them seemed to breathe with its occupants. Bilbo had originally worried that Thorin might have some issues with a giant golden floor, but it appeared that the final vestiges of Thorin’s gold sickness had abandoned him when he lay on his sickbed after the Battle of the Five Armies. Being begged for forgiveness by a dwarven king was definitely something that would have had the sensible Bungo Baggins fainting (and Belladonna swooning), but Bilbo had merely shook his head and explained to the half-dead Thorin Oakenshield that no, there was nothing to forgive because he had been sick, and therefore not himself. That he could make it up to him simply by  _ living. _

They were still working on it. There were times when Bilbo saw the guilt in Thorin’s eyes; the most recent was a shadow during a council meeting where a Man accused Thorin of being greedy for refusing to give a larger share of gold for a treaty. Pale blue had cut to ever-changing hazel with barely concealed pain. Bilbo had really laid into the Man that day, a lecture that would have made his grandmother proud.

The more obvious sign that Thorin was still feeling guilty was that the dwarf refused to visit the battlements overlooking the plain in front of Erebor. To the hobbit’s knowledge, Thorin had not been up there since that horrible day: despite the very stone being replaced due to structural damage.

Bilbo shook himself out of such maudlin thoughts and took in the bright hall before him; dwarves from all the kingdoms, though most from Erebor, spun around the dance floor in brilliantly colored and embroidered finery. Others sat on benches that created a type of border for the dance floor. Some feasted still, but most who were not dancing simply sat and laughed, sharing tales and news, tidings of the New Year. A band played somewhere; Bilbo had lost sight of them, but they could be heard no matter where you were in the hall. Dwarves truly were masters of acoustics, elves be damned. Cuttings of evergreen trees were strung up, the green accentuated with red bows in gorgeous natural garlands that gave the air a hint of pine among the stone. Ale flowed freely, and the mood was joyous.

While Bilbo drank, Thorin spoke kindly with a miner and his wife: one of the few of Dain’s folk who had decided to join the kingdom of Erebor. Bilbo smiled as he caught a snippet of their conversation: the pair was expecting a child come spring. Thorin congratulated them, glad to see his kingdom growing and his people happy. They walked off smiling brightly, and the king turned back to Bilbo.

“I am afraid I have neglected you, my friend.” There was a merry glint in his pale blue eyes and a slight curve of his lips.

Bilbo grinned, tilting his head and sitting down his cup on the table he was leaning against. “Not at all. You are a king, after all. You have duties, and what better a duty than to congratulate a family’s growth? Their child will be the fifth born in Erebor, correct?”

Thorin inclined his head, nodding as he kept his eyes on Bilbo’s. “Aye, it will. Mahal willing, both mother and child will be healthy.” He reached behind Bilbo, bringing them in close proximity as he picked up the hobbit’s half-full cup. Less than a foot away, Thorin brought it to his lips, drinking in the wine and taking in the way Bilbo bit his lower lip.

_ “Sharing food is one thing,” Balin lectured. “It is common among close friends and family. However, sharing drinks is only to be done between married couples and those who are courting. This is very important, as I sincerely doubt you do not want to deeply offend a married dwarf at some point. Gloin’s wife, for example. Wineskins on the road are different; more often than not there are too few to go around.” _

_ “Why?” Bilbo asked, curiously. “What is the great difference between food and drink?” _

_ Balin smiled; and this was something Bilbo liked about the older dwarf. He never made fun of Bilbo for not understanding their customs and never took offense with his questions. If anything he seemed to enjoy the hobbit’s curiosity and took all questions as a positive sign. _

_ “It is simple: you trade saliva when you kiss, and when you take a sip out of a cup, it is thought that the liquid retains part of you. Whether it be saliva or simply the taste of your lips, a small part of you is transferred to it. Food is far more forgiving. Drinking from someone else’s cup is akin to kissing them.” _

Thorin pulled the cup away from his lips and considered Bilbo carefully. “Would you like another sip?”

Bilbo shot a glance towards the small army of female dwarves who were eyeing him angrily, before moving his gaze back to Thorin’s. “Definitely. If that is agreeable with you?”

Thorin’s lips pulled into a rare smile, his eyes brightening in the torchlight. Bilbo took the cup from him and drank deeply, keeping his eyes locked on his king’s the entire time. When the cup was empty he licked his lips, and Thorin’s gaze darted to them. “Does the wine agree with you?” the dwarf asked roughly, asking about more than the wine in his question.

“Oh yes,” Bilbo nodded, examining the cup and its contents. “Quite exquisite, if I may say so myself.” He took a deep breath, girding himself for the next statement and moved his eyes up to hold Thorin’s gaze.  _ Let me be right,  _ he thought. “I wouldn’t mind a taste from the source, if you get my meaning.”

There were many possible reactions that Bilbo was prepared for. Surprise: understandable. Rejection: entirely possible. Thorin was hard to read on a good day, and though Bilbo was the best at it, he still misunderstood his friend sometimes. Anger was another possible outcome but he felt that was unlikely. Bilbo felt a flicker of fear as his mind whirled a thousand leagues an hour. Perhaps he had misread his dwarf.

Thorin’s actual reaction, occurring almost instantly after Bilbo finished his sentence, blew those out of the water. He inhaled sharply, lips parting and head tilting back slightly as his eyelids became hooded. An eyebrow crooked in surprise, and he momentarily bit his lip.

“You are a bold creature,” Thorin murmured, voice darker than Erebor’s deepest mine. He took a step forward, hands on the table on either side of Bilbo. His voice ground into Bilbo’s ear as he continued, the heat from his body seeping into Bilbo’s even through their layers of clothing. Hazel eyes slipped closed as Thorin spoke low and sultrily. “Tell me why I shan’t kiss you right here, in full view of my people and visiting dignitaries. Tell me why I shouldn’t.”

Bilbo breathed heavily for a few moments, having to restart his brain. Thorin smelled  _ heavenly, _ and sounded even better, which made thinking very, very difficult. “Because–because Bofur–Bofur will…lose money,” he managed. “He bet you’d kiss me on the dance floor, twelve-to-one odds. And quite honestly, I think it would be a bit more romantic than against a wooden ale table.”

A sigh from Thorin accompanied his words and the dwarf pulled back. “I was almost very upset with your statement. The mention of anyone else’s name in the explanation of why I shouldn’t kiss you…You almost started an honor duel right here, you know that?”

Bilbo laughed nervously and tugged on his sleeve, prompting Thorin to look where he was.

Most of the company sat together, a few tables down from the “King’s Admirers.” At seeing that they were caught watching their king and burglar, most had the common decency to look away quickly and pretend to be occupied with something else. Bofur, as it were, gave a wink.

Thorin laughed: a deep, rolling sound that surprised Bilbo. He took Bilbo’s cup from him and put it on the table before taking his arm and leading him towards the dance floor again. “Shall we give them a show?”

Bilbo laughed and picked up his pace, eager to return to dancing. “I’m glad you aren’t put off by insider betting.”

“On the contrary. I am quite pleased to see you accepting more and more of us by the day. Besides, Nori deserves to lose some money.” They reached the dancefloor and began their fourth dance even as he spoke: “I have it on good authority that he rigged the bet involving Ori and Dwalin’s courtship.”

Bilbo looked up at him, surprised, but did not falter in his steps to the drum-heavy beat. “Impossible. Ori’s my friend too, I’ll have you know! I sincerely doubt that he would allow his brother to influence such an important–“

Thorin cut him off as he lifted the hobbit in the air, in traditional waltz style. “Three books from the First Age, in pristine condition.” He sat Bilbo back down but Bilbo paused in their dancing. After a few moments he sniffed ( _ in that adorable way of his,  _ Thorin thought) and began moving to the music again.

“Well. I suppose that would do it.”

Thorin nodded and swept him into a spin that nearly had the hobbit dizzy. After a minute another song started, and Thorin’s eyes widened as he immediately recognized the tune. A different band member, female now, began singing.

_ “There’s a drumming noise inside my head that starts when you’re around, _

_ I swear that you could hear it, it makes such an almighty sound.” _

He pulled Bilbo in tight for a moment to murmur: “Listen close.” Bilbo’s eyes widened as he took it in, and their dance went faster to the beat of the music.

_ “Louder than sirens, louder than bells, _

_ Sweeter than heaven, and hotter than hell.” _

~

Bilbo was a vision.

He was draped with dwarven style clothing in Durin blue with gold embroidery around the edges. Dori had truly outdone himself with the tailoring; every bit of it fit Bilbo perfectly. While the hobbit would likely not believe it himself, Thorin was entranced as they danced across the room. His curly hair, still lightened from working in his terrace garden all year, was a halo of spun gold that was backlit by firelight. It was longer now than it was two years past when they took Erebor: it fell slightly below his shoulders and bounced when he moved. (It was the only gold that Thorin had craved for years.) Two braids fell on either side of his face, and the gold beads were set with emeralds. One pattern signified him as part of the royal family, as he had been accepted as such for his great feats during their quest and the final battle; the other had an ivy pattern, and each leaf was a shaped emerald. Thorin had made the first, but it had taken Dís–a master jeweler– _ ages _ to get the second one right.

The beat picked up and Thorin spun Bilbo into his body before spinning him right back out again. Thorin subtly motioned for Bilbo to stay put while he moved eight or so steps away. As the next lines played, Thorin stalked towards a now blushing Bilbo, stepping to the left and right. Not once did either of them take their eyes off the other’s.

_ “As I move my feet towards your body I can hear this beat, _

_ It fills my head up and gets louder and louder! _

_ It fills my head up and gets louder and louder!” _

He reached Bilbo and pulled him against him on the last note before the music slowed, wrapping one arm around his waist and  _ finally  _ allowing himself to touch those golden curls with his free hand. Bilbo’s palms pressed flat against the king’s chest. The hobbit’s eyes were a deep green, and Thorin wanted to dive into them. Bilbo raised on his tiptoes and Thorin lowered his head; their lips met as the music accelerated again, a warm press that they had both waited far too long for.

A few seconds went by before Thorin pulled back, pushing their foreheads together and nuzzling his nose against Bilbo’s. He opened his eyes to see grinning hazel looking up at him from under slightly lowered lashes and thought,  _ This. This is what I have waited for, have prayed for.  _

Something shifted in Bilbo’s eyes, a glint of mischief that Thorin didn’t have time to prepare for. Bilbo’s hands fisted in Thorin’s tunic and he dragged Thorin down for another, deeper kiss. There were many whispers and not-so-quiet mutterings about the  _ decency _ of kissing on a dance floor, especially between the king and his esteemed burglar...but Thorin was too wrapped up in his burglar’s mouth to care. Bilbo, upon hearing them, grinned into the kiss.  _ Why haven’t we been doing this for  _ **_years_ ** _ ,  _ the hobbit thought suddenly. He pulled back and smiled at Thorin’s awestruck, open expression. 

Both their cheeks were flushed as Thorin led them to the Company’s table, completely ignoring the stares they were receiving. The dwarf’s arm was wrapped around Bilbo’s shoulders, and Bilbo’s arm was around Thorin’s waist.

“I’m glad to see you’ve come around. We could have been doing this for years, you know.” 

Thorin laughed, nuzzling into Bilbo’s curls. “Apologies, Givashel. I was not sure my advances would be welcome, and I was afraid to run you off to the Shire with any attempts at speaking my heart.”

They reached the table and sat, smiling at the cheers of their friends.

“Pay up!” Bofur yelled, hopping onto a bench and pointing at his fellows. “I called it! Every one of you owe me money! Pockets out lads, there it is!”

There were a few lighthearted grumblings, but soon Bofur had a pile of gold in front of  him. The miner turned to his king and tipped his hat. “Thank you for your excellent choice, your majesty.”

Thorin smiled and nodded, wrapping his arm around Bilbo’s waist. Bilbo leaned into Thorin, noting that once again the king’s nose was in his hair. 

“Is this to become a daily thing?” He pointed to his hair and back to Thorin with raised eyebrows. The dwarf blushed  _ and goodness help me, _ Bilbo thought.  _ He is far too handsome. _

“Possibly. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Thorin’s mouth was near Bilbo’s ear, and their companions were beginning a food fight and paying no attention to them for the moment.

“Truthfully, no. But I’ve wanted you since that first night in Bag-End, I’ll have you know. You kept me waiting long enough!”

Suddenly Kili was leaning into Bilbo and Fili into Thorin, effectively sandwiching the new couple. 

“What’s this? You’ve had feelings for him since  _ Bag-End?” _ Kili asked.

Fili caught up after him. “How many times did we tell you, Uncle?”

Fili and Kili spoke together:  _ “How many times?!” _

Thorin pushed Fili off the bench, and the brothers laughed relentlessly. 

“Shut up,” Thorin said.

Bilbo winked as he took a sip of his drink. “I don’t see either of you approaching  _ your  _ love interests anytime soon.” He sat down his cup. “Why, Kili, you act as if Tauriel is no more than a friend! How can you judge Thorin when you act the same?” Fili “ooh”’ed, and Bilbo turned to him. “Oh, you’re no better Fili! I’ve seen you meeting with that lovely master blacksmith; what’s her name…” Bilbo pretended to think on it while Fili sputtered.

“Oi, you’ve made your point!” 

~

The rest of the night was spent drinking and laughing, with many good memories made. Two years after the Battle of the Five Armies had passed, and Erebor was thriving. The Company was happy, and the people were prosperous.

_ Happy Durin’s Day,  _ Thorin thought as he tightened his arm around Bilbo.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Comments make me smile :)
> 
> (If you're interested in a chapter 2 with smut, let me know. I might be down.)


End file.
